


don't leave me

by antierotic



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2693834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antierotic/pseuds/antierotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura isn't dealing well with her major loss.</p><p>The girls are losing their heroic identity as they desperately look for comfort.</p><p>A story without the generic tearful happy-ending welcome during the reunification. After returning, the couple is slowly learning how to embrace each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Since the battle, everything has become hard to do.

 

There’s no point in getting up, going to lectures, writing papers. It’s not only that—it’s the fact that everything you do reminds you. Using the shower and finding her old shampoo bottles, packing up her things so Betty can move back in. The stolen pillow somehow becomes rightfully yours.

 

It isn’t the fact that it all reminds you of her. It’s the fact that nothing can distract you from how it’s your own fault you will never see her again. It’s your own fault that the last thing you made her feel was guilt, shame and embarrassment. No matter how hard you try to focus on your friends, eating, or _anything_ at all, your mind wanders back to the other twin bed of the room, no matter where you are.

 

You never want to leave your room because then you become afraid of what will happen if you _are_ able to put your mind to something else. She never gave you anything besides the charm. The only proof you ever knew each other is in the videos and your memories, but there is nothing that proves the way you felt for her when she was alive. She left nothing to remind you that she died for you and no one else.

 

Everyday you even torture yourself with denial. She’s a supernatural creature of all things—even death is not final. There could be a way, some magical way for her to appear at your door. At your window. Carmilla was your hero once, and you know with all your heart that if there is a path somewhere in the depths of hell, she would trek it to return to you. Because she knows how badly you need her. She knows she must stop at nothing to indulge you, and let you apologize, let you show your gratitude and confess every word you’re carefully scripting. You’re scripting for the small shred of hope that on your way to that lecture, she will tap your shoulder and apologize herself for being late. She knows that you need this, and you would never forgive her if she didn’t try and try for all of eternity.

 

It becomes impossible for any of your friends to get you out of bed because that is where you can live in your memories most vividly. You imagine it must be childish and melodramatic to fantasize about her conjuring beside you, straight from the gates of the underworld. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care.

 

Packing up her things so your old roommate may usurp her place, you accidentally come across some dozen tattered leather-bound journals scribbled cover-to-cover with that familiar calligraphic handwriting. Your heart rises into your throat before you can even think to stop yourself from snatching at the most unbeaten one.

 

_She will never forgive me now. I can’t live while Maman lives without her sabotaging the only things I care about. What was I supposed to do? I keep asking the stars, God, even Ell—no one will answer me._

_I am a coward. No matter how many centuries pass, I’ll never forget gurgling for years in that tank._

_I couldn’t sleep indoors soundly until I met Laura. Her heartbeat hums in my ears and warms me into safety._

_Maybe if I use my last actions for her cause, even for a moment, I will also become pure._

You can’t handle anymore. You chuck the book away with a choked sob.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You start to hate yourself.

 

Not only because of the guilt and manslaughter you committed, but also for your insensitively immature envy. There’s no way you can help it, but now your mind is skewing things because anger is easier to deal with than major loss.

 

Carmilla is enjoying her other world, finally facing her lost love. That insufferable bitch in the white dress reached out for her in that light; a touching sight that brought Carmilla to tears. Reunited, they know love in a way you could never experience: one that spans time. Wherever Ell has been all these years, she has been poisoning her life for decades. Humans have the luxury of fading memories and mortal death, but Carmilla’s been impatient for returning to her, even up until a few months ago.

 

Time will pass for you too. But you couldn’t forget, even if you wanted to.

 

You will die too. An ephemeral existence dwarfed by a vampire’s lifetime. Your entire lifespan wouldn’t even equal the amount of time Carmilla has desperately craved Ell’s return.

 

In reality, you just can’t deal with the idea that Carmilla wouldn’t miss you as much as you miss her. You don’t want to think that she died for someone else. As petty as it sounds, you can’t stop the bitterness from curdling at your insides while you curl further in bed.

 

This whole time, you were trying to save lives; but does that really make you all that pure? Some self-righteous, stubborn, incessant child that wears a towel for a cape doesn’t know a single thing about heroism, especially when others are dying in her place.

 

* * *

 

Danny comes over in the midst of more self-deprecation.

 

She comes in, all smiles and sensitivity, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. She’s the reason Betty has obliged with tip-toeing around you, and little visitors all around. You don’t care that you look like hell, and you don’t try to hide the fact that you’ve been reading Carmilla’s diaries that log scattered time periods dating back to 1863. Living in her past lives immortalizes her for you, even if you were only a blip in her existence.

 

You learn that desperate situations can make you a shitty person. Everyone so far has been used to becoming golden heroines, but right now, Danny is trying to make you feel better, along with pathetically veiled attempts at redeeming your romantic attention. You want to bring her down with you, let her know that she should be ashamed of herself, taking advantage of your time of need. But then you remember that you’re all hurting—you all need someone. LaF and Perry get to hold each other and be grateful for being saved, and you get nothing.

 

“Look, Laura, I know you know we all miss you. But I just can’t stand seeing you this way,” she chokes out, looking back down at the floorboards. You remember how you admire her powerful stature and bravery all of a sudden. “More so than the others. I—I just need you to be alright.”

 

Danny places her strong palm on your knee that’s under the duvet, but your heavy-browed stare hasn’t wavered since she entered.

 

And then you’re kissing heavily, the room filling with your breathy gasps. You’re exploiting the faint memories of your feelings towards her that you haven’t dragged out in a while. You take that hand on your knee and drag it up to your breast with a squeeze as the tall woman straddles you. You both should be ashamed of yourselves, but for that moment, Danny knows you’re grasping at straws.

 

When you endure a pitiful orgasm, you roll over, facing the wall, without Danny’s kiss goodbye.

 

After a few more times, you both argue as a result of stress and crises involving ethical boundaries. The irrational side of you is fucking her just to provoke a reaction in your dead not-ex-girlfriend.

 

“If you don’t want this, why don’t you just tell me?”

 

_You know why. You know exactly why. You’re just asking me that to make your_ self _feel better._

“Because you’ve won Danny; good for you. Your competition is gone.”

 

Carmilla’s death caused tidal waves. Good people don’t know who they are anymore. You imagine she’s laughing at you two in that bottomless grave.

 

It’s an arbitrary universe, you think, comforting yourself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There are only a few days left in the semester before you get to go home. You don’t know yet if you’re coming back, but if you do, you’ll face the constant reminders everyday. Even worse, the false hope that this is the only place you could find each other again. Betty’s boxes and suitcases are haphazardly stacked, representing her impatience to get the fuck out of here.

 

You are up to her life in 1953 in her journals when she gets back. At this point, Carmilla is living life at Silas, expressing her regret for every girl she’s taken. A spike of envy poisons you at the sentences where she seduces them. You refuse to look up when she calls your name.

 

“Laura.”

 

The book falls, clatters to her feet. When it rests on the toe of her boot, you accept she is not another hallucination. It’s not another footstep you hear, filling you with hope. It’s not another familiar shadow.

 

“You came back.”

 

When you’re clawing her to you, selfishly and greedily embracing her, you feel ashamed, knowing she can smell Danny all over you. You try and apologize for that, and everything else that has happened with every kiss you press to her entire body. It’s a fumbling frenzy and you don’t know what to say first.

 

“Laura… Please, wait—listen.”

 

You grab her collar as if she’s bound to float away at any point. “Please don’t go again. Stay with me. I couldn’t take it if you left again.”

 

It’s a silent agreement, but Carmilla gives in, tearfully accepting everything you give.

 

You try and pull her inside you—to clear out who has touched you in the past. But she refuses. In the end, you don’t kiss again for another two weeks, let alone make love for the first time. In that moment, you didn’t want to make love. You wanted her to wreck you and break you and destroy remnants of another for the sake of penance and atonement, so painfully you would become pure.

 

Instead, you settle for her promise to be there when you wake up in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're trying to figure out how to love each other, but jealousy sucks

When word gets out that Carmilla has returned, you two don’t get a quiet moment. The group comes in, whooping and hugging her, kissing her face and lifting her up with loud cheers. She pretends to be annoyed, cursing you insolent brats, but inside you know she is happy that people are grateful to receive her. They surround her, bombarding her with questions and recounting Carmilla’s heroically epic last actions. 

 

“I made an agreement—I was lost for a long time, trapped in that light space. All the ghosts of those girls… I remembered every single one of their faces.”

 

She left it at that, and everyone got the hint as they resumed chattering about the final battle.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the room clears for you both, you make a hasty effort to not look like the wreck you’ve been for the last few weeks. Everything you’ve been dying to say seems to have floated out of your head and abandoned you; smoothing your shirt and tucking hair behind your ear, all the heat is rising to your face. Making eye contact is so difficult when she’s staring like that.

 

“You look beautiful.”

 

Now you’re melting inside, heart sputtering as she takes a calm step towards you. When you muster up the bravery and look up, it’s dizzying how close she is, especially when that soft smile is aimed at you. She presses to you as your arms snake over her shoulders, and those firm palms slide down to your lower back.  The lines that have been written for this moment come back to you, piece by piece.

 

“Carmilla, you are the bravest, strongest—“

 

“I know.”

 

“I didn’t mean it when I—“

 

“I know.”

 

“I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

 

“Wherever I was, Laura, I felt you calling me, over and over. I will always come back to you.” Her voice slid out in a breath over your ear, softly lulling you into healing.

 

For the first time, you feel this overwhelming peace. Secure in her grip, your mind is begging her to never let you go.

 

You don’t kiss again because everything is so fragile. Everything is so nervous, and neither of you know yet how forgiven you are. One thing is certain; you both are set on maintaining physical contact for as long as possible. As if she’s also afraid you’ll disappear into thin air, there’s always an arm around your waist, lips on your shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

When Danny stops by after the others have gone, you almost don’t notice she’s there at all.

 

Seated high on Carmilla’s lap, you’re laughing for the first time in so long as she brings up a part of the journal. On the Betty’s bare unclothed bed you played because somehow Carmilla won’t bring herself to lie in yours. It was 1832, and you’re teasing her about a corny line about pretty girls being candles that were lit forever.

 

“Shut up! Electricity wasn’t a _thing_ yet!” Her snarky quips return as things are slowly getting back to normal, and Carmilla is not normal without her quipping.

 

The journal is tucked between you as your palms come up and cup her face. “ _Oh Mircalla,_ you’re like a lightbulb that’s on _forever…”_ She swats your hands away with a pout.

 

Danny reasserts her presence with a knock at the threshold. You freeze up, Carmilla notices, and your belly feels like it’s sinking, for some reason.

 

A chuckle, “Am I interrupting?”

 

You hop to your feet, feeling guilty for being found in the intimate position. “No—Not really, what’s up?”

 

The tall girl steps in with a genuine smile, knowing, almost. She has been anticipating this as much as you.

 

“I’m glad your back, dead girl.” A firm handshake ensues. “Or rather, _not_ -dead girl.”

 

Carmilla gives a rare smile of gratitude, because she knows Danny must’ve made sure you were safe while she was AWOL in purgatory.

 

She turns to leave, and her smile falls, brow furrowing. Your belly is still sinking.

 

“Carmilla, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I smell her everywhere; in your bed, I can’t stand it.” Her heavy stare is on her tightening fists.

 

Tears of panic are pricking at your eyes. “I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”

 

“That doesn’t… make me feel better.”

 

Now you’re kneeling before her, uncurling the tight fist and kissing the knuckles, brushing them over your cheek, trying to remain calm.

 

“Laura, I was will Ell.”

 

It’s your turn to freeze, eyes shut with the fingers now stroking the line of your cheekbone. The panic and guilt turns to fear. That bitter burning of envy rises in your memories. Is it because this whole tirade has made you petty? Do you need to turn things around to live with the things you’ve done? Because you stand up with a huff,

 

“It was about _her_ wasn’t it?” you spit with an acidic voice, almost instantly regretting it when you look down to see her once loving stare morph into sorrow. “You wanted to save her, and be with _her_.” Once you say it out loud, you’re beginning to believe yourself. Vision watering, “Did you come back here because you felt _bad_ for me?”

 

She stands suddenly, squaring up to face you directly, voice darkening with contempt. “That’s not true—“

 

You start pelting her with pathetic blows to the shoulders until she forces you into a bear hug of an embrace as you sob lightly, “Carmilla… What’s wrong with me?”

 

“I told her I wanted you. I wanted her to lead me back to you. She said we could spend an eternity in love, but I picked you.” You knew she was telling the truth, and that made you lean into her, forehead on her neck.

 

In a few days, the university would clear out for the winter intersession. Snow lightly floats down on your silence.

 

After a while, “Stay here. Don’t go home,” she says into your hair.

 

You pull away to look at her. “What?”

 

“I’ll bring you home when you want. Just stay here. We can have this place to ourselves—as long as we want.” For the first time, you see her need you as much as you need her. “Please.”

 

There are so many moments you need to make up for. So many things you need to say and show with your body. Your dad will understand, if you plead, especially now that he must know your story. There is nothing you need more than time to forgive and love each other; Carmilla already knows that you can’t deny her.

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking of doing how they get back to being around each other, because I was tired with all of these generic reunifications and happy endings. We deserve something more interesting than that hahaha 
> 
> Please comment


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